Illusory
by Raeni ftw
Summary: Roxas moves to "Illusory", where colors are deadly and friends are few. He is promptly initiated into one of the city's fiercest gangs. In he midst of the confusion, a scarlet-haired boy keeps interrupting and making him doubt everything. --Akuroku
1. Chapter 1

Illusory: Deceptive, false, misleading, erroneous, unreal, nonexistent

Part One.

Color was lethal.

From the moment he'd arrived in the small, downtrodden district of Illusory, New York, Roxas had noticed obvious: To be caught in the wrong color was deadly.

The streets with littered with discarded trash-- everything from empty candy wrappers to used heroine syringes dotted the curbs, lined the drains, and got caught on shoes. Illusory was the lowest of the low. Roxas, who'd formerly lived in a moderately wealthy suburban area, was disgusted with the state of the city he'd been forced to move to. Outweighing his disgust, however, was his fear for his own safety. He had no idea what colors were neutral and could keep him safe. There was great possibility that, any given morning; he could be randomly killed simply for wearing too bright a shade of blue or the wrong sort of gray. To his dismay, there were no prewritten guidebooks on what color was appropriate for a new citizen of Illusory to wear. He'd have to learn the hard way.

The reason for Illusory's sensitivity to color was because of the vast amount of gangs present in the area--Illusory was Number One in the nation for gang activity. Every gang had it's own distinctive color, which was to be worn by its members at all times. Any person found wearing a gang's color without membership was liable to be shot at any time. For a new resident, like Roxas, this concept seemed less than fair.

Roxas sat at the window of his bedroom, watching rain pelt the glass surface. His first day at a new school began tomorrow, and the idea of it made him nauseous. So much would be different, so much would be missing...

Especially Namine.

His mind drifted absently to that final conversation, four weeks ago, as they'd said their goodbyes:

"What do you mean goodbye?" Namine had asked, her voice brimming with hurt.

"You heard me, Nami. It's better this way," Roxas had replied, his voice emotionless.

"I can visit you, Roxas! We can make this work. I know we can." Her beauty, her gentle voice, had been almost too much for him to bear. He had almost caved, right there.

"No. We're moving to Illusory, Namine. I wouldn't want you in that place for more than five minutes."

"Roxas, please reconsider," Namine had begged, her soft voice making the plea even more heartbreaking."I love you!" Roxas cringed at her use of the 'L word'. Though she didn't know it, this final display of deep affection is what sealed Roxas' decision in his heart. He had to leave her-- both physically and emotionally.

"I'm sorry, Namine," he'd said."Goodbye."

And then he'd left with his family for a new life in Illusory, leaving a distraught Namine behind to try and line the pieces up. He hadn't looked back or regretted the decision to break up with her at all. At least, not until now. But now, as he watched the rain fall against his window pane, outlined by a seemingly omnipresent gray sky, facing an impending new school year and an ending summer, he felt a pang of loneliness for the girl he'd left behind. Life would be so different without his 'Nami' around, despite his receding romantic feelings for her. School would be so empty without her blue eyes and golden hair to brighten it.

Trying to pull his attentions from his dismal thoughts of the past, Roxas focused his attention on his closet. It'd be quite a chore to pick out an outfit for school.

Why didn't the administration just require uniforms? It'd spare so much anxiety.

After much consideration, Roxas determined that the two most impractical and therefore unlikely colors for a gang would be black (it attracted the sun and would be too hot) and white (it stained easily and would have a bad impression on other gangs. it also represents innocence, which would be frowned upon in gang society for obvious reasons). After realizing Roxas owned no entirely white outfit, he settled for an all black one-- a tight black muscle shirt and a pair of baggy black cargo shorts.

Without a better alternative, Roxas resorted to trying on the outfit to see how he looked in it, feeling slightly embarrassed as trying on outfits wasn't exactly masculine.

He examined his reflection in the mirror. Instead of looking over his outfit, though, Roxas' attention was directed to his face. He was surprised at how lifeless his eyes looked, caught off guard by the depth of the dark circles under them. Surely the three remaining weeks of his summer vacation spent in Illusory couldn't have zapped that much from him, could they? He sighed, scanning the rest of the mirror. After a moment's debating he decided he liked the way the outfit looked on him, and changed back into the clothes he'd been wearing previously so as to keep the outfit free of wear for the following day.

"Roxas," called his mother's voice from another room."Can you go to the store for me? We're out of milk."

Roxas bit his lip. Didn't she realize how dangerous it was to even leave the house? While in Illusory, Roxas preferred to stay indoors whenever possible. He had hoped to postpone the stress over color until, at least, school the following day. Going to the store could complicate his plans.

"I have to study, Mom," Roxas rushed to excuse himself from the chore, "I really have to know this."

"Nice try, Roxas, but school doesn't start until tomorrow."

Roxas bit his lip again, annoyed at himself for not thinking through his excuse. Without further argument, Roxas grabbed his jacket, and mentally scanned what he was wearing: denim shorts, a white wifebeater, a black jacket. The colors seemed neutral enough. He walked through the front door of the apartment onto the dark, inhospitable city street and headed in the direction of the nearest convenience store.

He turned the corner at the end of the block-- and stopped. A newly opened cafe had caught his eye. The tempting coffee smells beckoned him from within. He took a second to backtrack to the last time he'd done anything for the sheer recreation of it, and realized he hadn't done anything of the sort since he'd moved to Illusory. After another moment's consideration, he walked inside. He justified his actions in that he assumed no gang members could find any comfort in a beatnik cafe.

The place was nearly empty. A thin, petite girl with short, spiky hair and a bored expression stood behind the register. A bald, college-age man with thick-rimmed glasses and a red striped tie sat at a table reading a small book and sipping something from a cup. In the back, two boys of Roxas' age sat in a

corner table. One had spiky, scarlet hair, while the other was blonde and sipping what appeared to be tea. Both were wearing matching black hoodies. The red-haired one eyed Roxas with aggravation as he walked in, but Roxas chose to overlook it.

Roxas walked up to the cashier, a sincere smile forming at the edges of his lips for the first time in a long time.

"Slow day?" he asked, leaning slightly onto the counter. The girl smiled softly in reply, nodding her head.

"We just opened, so you'd figure there'd be more people," she said in a quiet voice, "But nooo, we're practically empty all day." She looked Roxas over with soft eyes-- and stopped short when she noted his torso. Her tone changed abruptly, becoming more formal and to-the-point.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked curtly, cutting their small talk short. Roxas' smile evaporated.

"Sure. I guess I'll just take a latte," Roxas said, still a bit unsettled by the girl's sudden personality switch.

"You can have a seat. I'll be with you in a minute," she said, and turned her back from him. Conversation closed.

Roxas took a seat in the back, sighing to himself. Why does everything I do end up like this? he wondered silently. The redhead was still eyeing Roxas curiously, making him uncomfortable.

"You're such a wuss, Demyx," the redhead muttered to the blonde.

"The boss isn't here, so why should we care?" Demyx replied in a slightly whiny voice.

"It's not about the boss. It's about our sense of dignity. If we let one start, everyone thinks they can."

"He probably doesn't know any better."

"Then we ought to teach him a lesson."

"I'd rather not."

"Wuss."

The spiky-haired waitress arrived at Roxas' table holding his order. He handed her payment and noted silently her pointed aversion of looking at the other table, where the two boys sat. Curiosity, as well as dread, began to build in him.

The red haired boy glared at Demyx in disgust."You're going to make me do this alone?"

"I haven't finished my tea," Demyx whined.

"You're blowing off our honor for tea?!"

"You know I'm not good at this."

"Forget it. I'll take care of this myself." With that closing statement, the redhead stood and strode over to where Roxas sat, glumly sipping his latte.

Roxas looked everywhere but in the boy's direction.

"Hey. Hotshot," the boy sneered.

Roxas glanced up, unable to avoid the imminent now.

"Are you talking to me?" Roxas replied, careful to make his voice stoic and unprevoking.

"I don't see anyone else wearing our color," he hissed, and Roxas swallowed hard, awash with new dread. So it had finally happened. He shot a quit glance at his black jacket. Of course. The boys' identical hoodies had been no mere coincidence.

"I'm new here," Roxas began slowly, struggling to control his panic, "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to..."

With one swift movement, the redhead pulled Roxas from his seat and had him by the collar, his feet dangling just above the ground.

"I'm no 'sir'," he growled, "The name's Axel. A-x-e-l. Got it memorized?"


	2. Chapter 2

Part two.

From behind him, Demyx laughed.

"Cut him some slack, Axel," he said, his voice cheerful despite the hostile situation."He obviously had no idea black was the color of the Twelfth Order. Just give him a gentle warning and send him on his way."

Reluctantly, Axel lowered Roxas to the ground.

Roxas addressed Demyx, cautiously:"What other colors should I avoid?" Demyx grinned, and Axel belted out with laughter.

"There is no safe color, kid," Axel said, amused.

Roxas' eyes widened."That can't be true."

Demyx, sympathetic though obviously fighting amusement himself, started counting off on his fingers, "White is the Air Soldiers, Dark Blue is the Wyverns, Red belongs to the Requiems, Gray to the Screwdrivers. The higher-up gangs are green: the Stealth Sneaks; Purple: the Dark Sides. The list goes on and on. And then, of course, there's black," He grinned with pride. "The Twelfth Order."

"What strange names," Roxas mumbled quietly.

"Most of them named themselves off mythical Heartless," Demyx said airily. "Totally unoriginal. Now, the Twelfth Order? That's original. No one else has anything like that. That's why we're so well known."

"And well-feared," Axel threw in, still pouting from his unfulfilled violence quota.

"So what can I wear to avoid getting hurt?" Roxas asked, incredulous.

"Nothing," Demyx said. "You just have to wear whatever color, and hope the gang initiates you instead of shooting you or beating you up. No one goes too long in this town without gang protection."

"So what do I do?" Roxas asked.

"Just wear all black tomorrow," Axel said abruptly. Demyx gaped.

"What?! Are you insane? The boss will--"

"I'll talk to the boss."

Demyx continued to stare at him in disbelief, but said nothing more. Axel glanced at Demyx's empty cup.

"It looks like you've finished your tea," he said, "Which means, we're going." He cast one final glare at Roxas before heading for the door.

"See you around," Demyx said as he rose to follow Axel, "Er... what was your name?"

"Roxas."

"Right. Roxas. Well, bye."

As Demyx and Axel disappeared from Roxas' line of vision, his latte suddenly seemed unimportant. He sipped his beverage for a few minutes longer before abruptly remembering the reason for his outing in the first place. If he didn't hurry and get the milk, his mom would think something happened to him. And, considering the city they were living in, that wouldn't be too unreasonable an assumption.

When he finally returned, the sky was a slightly darker shade than before. The time of day was hard to tell from the sky in Illusory. The skies there were dominated by seemingly ever-present rainclouds, and a dismal gloom seemed to be omnipresent over the city at all times. Despite this, Roxas could tell he'd wasted a lot of time at the cafe, and he made an effort to be stealthy when he came back, to avoid questions. To his relief, his parents were asleep when he came back. He put the gallon of milk in the fridge and slipped into his room.

After stripping to his boxers and making sure everything was ready for his first day at his new high school, Roxas lay on his bed, too riddled with questions to fall asleep. Why had that boy told him to wear black? What were gang members doing in cafe, anyway? Weren't gangsters supposed to be vicious? His curiosity fought against his need for sleep, but the latter finally won over. Roxas closed his eyes and slept soundlessly.

****

Utter chaos.

When his mother had dropped him off in front of the school, Roxas had been sure there was a mistake. Surely no facility with this much chaos could be a school. But, his mother had stated firmly, this was the place. She'd dropped him off and drove off quickly, as though eager to be away from the place her son would be spending the next 6 hours of his day. Roxas inhaled deeply.

The front of the school was a rainbow of different colors, all organized by group. A gang of fierce-looking girls huddled in a corner, all dressed in pink, shouting curses at another female gang dressed in teal. A gang of African American and white males, all dressed in red, where engaged in a terrifying fistfight with a gang of Latino and Asians in dark blue. A gang of both males and females, of about 13 or 14 in number, sat on the front steps of the school, glaring at anyone who happened to look in their direction. A gang in purple appeared to be lighting a tree on fire. There seemed to be no distinguishing quality for each gang--all types of race, gender, age, and size were interwoven in each group. Roxas scanned the schoolyard desperately, searching for anyone at all who didn't seem to belong to a group. He didn't find a single person.

Roxas had done as he was told and dressed in all black. Seeing the obvious line drawn by color, though, sent him into a state of panic. He was struck by the almost insurmountable desire to strip to his checkered boxers and call it a day. Just as he was debating whether or not to give into the impulse, though, he saw a mass of black scurry swiftly across the schoolyard in procession. The Twelfth Order.

Before he could decide whether to be relieved or scared, a flying punch greeted him in the jaw.

"What do you think you're wearing?!" shouted a voice-- seething with anger, yet calm at the same time. The voice belonged to the same person who'd thrown the punch, but in his shock Roxas hadn't gotten a chance to look at him. When he finally looked up, he saw that all the members (including his assaulter) wore the hoods on their hoodies up, concealing their faces. All of them, that is, except Axel.

"Axel told me to--" Roxas began defending himself, but he was stopped short by another shattering blow to his face.

"Axel," the voice said, "Does not run the show."

By now, groups of other gangs had gathered at a safe distance to watch. It wasn't every day a new kid was unfortunate enough to transfer to their school.

"Axel," the voice continued, "Is not the boss of this gang."

The boy pulled down his hood, to reveal a spiky, gray haired young man, obviously an upperclassman, with a sharp edge to his face that would have given him an air of authority even if his voice didn't match it.

"My name is Xemnas," He said slowly, letting each word sail its course. "And you appear to be wearing my color."

Roxas inhaled deeply, preparing himself for another series of painful blows. But, to his surprise, they did not come. He scanned his aggressor's eyes, but they appeared thoughtful.

"It's been decided," Xemnas declared suddenly, "That this boy will be initiated, as opposed to killed."

"Who's doing the initiating?" asked an eager female voice from one of the hooded figures. "Can I do it, Xemnas?"

"Axel is doing the initiation," Xemnas replied, much to the disappointment of the person who asked. Axel grinned. "I know how you've been looking forward to this, Axel. Please, use your imagination as much as you like, and do make it entertaining."

Axel pulled a stack of matches from his pocket.

"Do I operate any other way?" he asked, taking a step toward Roxas.

Prickles of panic stabbed at the back of Roxas' head. He had no idea what Axel was capable of, but he was certain he didn't want to find out. He took an involuntary step back.

"What if I don't want to join your gang?" he asked, doing his best to conjure up a glare in Xemnas' direction. Xemnas replied with a laugh.

"It amuses me how you think you get a choice in the matter," Xemnas replied.

From one of the hooded figures came a familiar voice--Demyx's-- saying, "Roxas, we're the best of the best. Every other gang in Illusory fears us. If you survive your initiation, you'll have protection for life. Plus," he lowered his voice, though it was pointless, as he had to be loud enough for Roxas to hear and therefore loud enough for everyone to hear, and whispered, "I survived the initiation, and I hate to fight. You'll be fine."

"That's because Luxord initiated you," the female voice from before chirped. "Not Axel."

"Enough!" Xemnas commanded, and Demyx and the girl were silent. Xemnas nodded at Axel, who hadn't taken his eyes off Roxas once.

"The rules are simple," Axel said, his voice coy as though toying with Roxas. "You do everything in your power not to die." With a flick of his wrist, a match was lit, and he was advancing on Roxas. Roxas took slow, feeble steps backward.

"Just what do you plan to do to me?" he asked, his voice sounding commanding and much, much braver than he felt.

"I'm a pyro," Axel announced, "And I'm going to put on a show for you."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three.

Axel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of liquid, which Roxas vaguely noted to be some sort of alcohol. With a flourish, Axel opened the bottle and poured it in a circle around Roxas and himself. Roxas stared at him, perplexed.

"Ignition." Axel explained. And he dropped the match.

A wall of flame taller than Axel burst forth from the ring of ignition, completely shielding Roxas and Axel from view of everyone else. Sweat formed on Roxas' brow from the heat of the flame, but Axel looked right at home.

"Take off your shirt," Axel said quietly. Roxas stared at him incredulously.

"Oh, come on, just do it. You don't want to be hurt, and I don't want to hurt you, so just take off your shirt and we'll call it a day."

Roxas stared blankly, trying desperately to comprehend.

"Talk about blank with a capital 'B'," Axel said. He shook his head in disgust. "I guess we'll have to do this the hard way." With a graceful leap, he lunged at Roxas and tugged off his shirt.

"What are you DOING?!" Roxas scowled, but he wasn't too upset. This was preferable to being beaten, any day.

Axel took off his own shirt, replacing it with Roxas'. Roxas was still dumbfounded. Then, Axel backed slowly into the wall of flame.

"You'll hurt yourself!" Roxas exclaimed.

"Shh," Axel said, putting a finger to his lips. "Now, when I give the signal, shout like you're in pain." And Axel leaned further backwards into the wall of flame, so that the back of the t-shirt could be see through the wall from the other side, giving the impression that Roxas was being pushed against the wall. Axel signaled Roxas to shout in pain, and he did-- not because he was told to, but because he feared Axel would be hurt.

"You'll get killed!" Roxas gasped.

"Fire is my friend," Axel said, slipping back inside the circle, seemingly unscathed. "It won't hurt me."

"Now...how can we further convince them that I've been giving you the worst beating of your life? Here, put the shirt back on," he muttered, pulling off the shirt and tossing it back to Roxas. He spit in the dirt at his feet and tuck his finger up the mud that formed from it, walking toward Roxas. He then put the mixture of dust and spit around Roxas' eye, and it did give the impression of a black eye.

"Why are you doing this?" Roxas asked, quiet now.

"Demyx got the better of me."

"Your boss will get mad."

"My boss could care less."

"If your boss doesn't care, why are we going through all this?"

"We can't just let people join the Order," Axel explained, "We're not running a charity. If people knew we don't care about our initiations, they'd lose respect for us. Xemnas knows who's good for the gang. Once he's made his decision, the rest is irrelevant. The initiations are just for show." He chuckled.

"Unless Larxene does the initiating."

"So... you're not going to hurt me?"

Axel grinned "Only a little." And, with this statement, he grabbed Roxas and picked him all the way up, seemingly effortlessly. And then, as though Roxas were as light as a feather, he tossed him over the wall of flame. Roxas landed on the other side with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. He gasped and choked, struggling for air, and winced from the pain of the impact. Still, Roxas knew that the exit Axel had chosen for him was much less painful than exiting through the flames. It also ended the initiation with the thematic appeal the bystanders were craving. Axel slipped through the wall of flames, once again not hurt by the flame he created. He walked over to where Roxas lay, recovering from his fall. He placed a foot on top of Roxas' chest and glared at him with the sort of fiery-hot rage only a pyro could fake.

"Had enough, Blondie?" he hissed, his voice dripping with so much venom Roxas wondered if he'd imagined their entire conversation from within the flames.

Roxas, playing up the part, choked out,"...Please...no more, Axel..." The audience was obviously pleased, their thirst for violence quenched.

As the flames behind them dispersed, the crowd dispersed as well, until only the Order remained.

Xemnas approached Roxas, looking at him with cold, unfeeling eyes. He tossed him a black hoodie, wordlessly, and walked towards the school's main entrance. The rest of the Order followed suit. Demyx and Axel, however, stayed behind to help Roxas up. Demyx grinned.

"Congratulations, Roxas! You've officially made the XIIth Order the XIIIth Order. You should be proud of yourself." Demyx turned his attentions to Axel.

"And you, man. That looked /good/. I was beginning to wonder there if you'd changed your mind and really did beat him senseless." Demyx paused a moment. "You... didn't, did you?" He eyed Roxas warily.

Roxas answered Demyx's question by hopping up, suddenly full of life. "The Thirteenth Order, huh?" Roxas said, smiling."That sounds a lot better than the Twelfth Order."

"Number 13," Axel said, looking him over. "Roxas."

"Make sure you sort of limp all day today," Demyx cautioned, "Just to make sure no one doubts the brutality of our initiations."

"Okay," Roxas agreed. "Maybe I should lean on you guys on the way in."

"Don't push it," Axel said, and Roxas laughed.

The rest of the day went by breezily. Roxas spent the day being avoided by fellow students (who know better than to mess with an Order member) and trying to adjust to his new surroundings. He ate lunch with the Order, and was greatly disturbed by the silence at their lunch table. However, when Xemnas excused himself to go to the bathroom, the table erupted with chatter, just like any other. The minute Xemnas returned, though, the silence came back abruptly. Roxas was obviously not the only one who felt uneasy around their leader.

In the last period of the day, Demyx passed Roxas a note: 'Don't go home. Wait outside and we'll tell you what to do.' When the final bell rang, Roxas followed Demyx's directions. Instead of catching a bus home, he sat on the front steps, looking around anxiously.

Finally, a hooded member came up to him. The voice was familiar, female: "We got tired of waiting, so Xemnas sent me to get you." And then, without warning, she spit directly in Roxas' eye, much to his disgust. The girl made a disapproving sound as the dirt around his eye ran down his cheek.

"The boss should have let me initiate you. Then that limp of yours wouldn't be fake." With that, she pointed towards a black Hummer limo that Roxas hadn't realized had pulled up.

"That's the Order's car. Get in."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

Roxas wiped the saliva from his eye and followed the girl up to the Hummer. Inside, 11 members of the Order stared at them expectantly. Many of them had their hoods down for the first time since Roxas had seen them. Xemnas sat in the back between two blue haired members, one appearing to a senior, the other perhaps a freshman or sophomore. In front of them sat Axel and Demyx. Roxas took a tentative seat beside them. The girl who'd been sent to fetch Roxas took a seat in the passenger's side beside a peculiar looking boy with an eye patch in the driver's seat. He began driving.

Demyx motioned to the members behind him. "This is Saix, you already know Xemnas... That's Zexion." He motioned to the four hooded figures in front of him. "In front of us are Marluxia, Xaldin, Luxord, and Lexaeus. The guy driving is Xigbar, and the girl in the passenger's side is Larxene." Roxas bit his lip, realizing he'd never remember all those names, especially those of the members that were still hooded.

The Hummer pulled up in front of a dilapidated building, with boarded windows and peeling paint. Roxas exhaled. For some reason, he'd expected The XIIIth Order's headquarters to have a little more class than all the other gangs, but obviously, he was wrong. The idea of spending any amount of time in such a place turned his stomach. Was this really where he'd be expected to spend his free time from now on? All of the members filed out of the car, and Roxas tried to hide his disappointment. Surely the most feared gang in all of Illusory was above such conditions.

Xemnas pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and approached the front door. 'Why lock a place like this?' Roxas wondered silently. When the door opened, he saw why.

Behind the worn-out, trashy facade, a gorgeous, mansion-like front room unfolded. There was a newly tiled floor, shiny and obviously well kept. A dual staircase was the center of the room, leading up to a hallway with many rooms. A bright chandelier lit by candles hung overhead, and appeared to be decorated by diamonds. A grand piano sat in the corner of the room, and at the right of the room was a door that seemed to be leading to a kitchen. Roxas took a sharp intake of breath. It was beautiful.

"This," Demyx said, with a flourishing gesture to the room, "is Fort Oblivion."

"This... belongs to you guys?! You guys really hang out here?" Roxas asked, incredulous, still gaping.

"Yeah. Most of us live here, actually..." Demyx replied with a shrug. "Let me show you my room!" Demyx grabbed Roxas' hand and led him up the staircase and down the hallway. Roxas allowed himself to be pulled along without protest, eager for insight on the Order's way of life. When Demyx reached the end of the hallway, he turned, revealing another hallway and another set of doors on either side. He raced down to one in the middle, and opened the door with a grand gesture.

Demyx's room was amazing.

For one thing, it was huge. It was almost twice the length and width of an Olympic-size swimming pool, and hardly seemed practical for a bedroom. You'd have to sprint to get to the other side in decent time. The back wall was veiled by a huge curtain, which appeared to be hiding a window the length of the wall. To the right of the room, a small stage was set up (perhaps about the size one would see at a poetry reading), and four movie-theatre style seats sat in front of it. To the right of the stage was a large glass case holding nine different guitars, all of which appeared to be top-notch and impressive. On the left side of the room, near the doorway, was a huge bed, made with a blue comforter that had the number nine all over it in roman numerals. Most impressive of all, though, was the small swimming pool across from the stage. Roxas gasped at the sheer perfection of the room he looked upon.

"Does everyone have a room like this?" Roxas asked.

"Mine's the only one that's soundproof," Demyx replied, "But yeah, most of them are about the same size."

"It's soundproof?"

"Yeah. When Xemnas realized how much music I play he made sure it was."

"You play?" Roxas asked, genuinely impressed. Demyx's docile, tea-drinking manner in the cafe had given Roxas the impression that he was a quiet, out of the way sort of person. But, he realized now, that manner might only apply to things like fighting.

Demyx snorted. "Do I play?" he repeated, incredulous. "That's like asking if I breathe."

Demyx approached the guitar case, about to open it, when someone knocked at the door.

"Yo, Blondie," came Axel's annoyed voice from the other side. Demyx and Roxas both answered, "Yes?" at the same time. Axel opened the door, scowling.

"Not you, you idiot," he said to Demyx, and grabbed Roxas' wrist, pulling him aggressively from Demyx's room.

"This blondie is being requested by Xemnas. You pulled him away so rudely when we got here..."

Demyx frowned. "The Superior isn't mad at me, is he?"

Axel grinned. "You'd better hope he isn't."

Demyx's eyes widened. "Please tell Xemnas I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking! I just wanted to show Roxas my room..."

Axel wasn't listening. He led Roxas back the way he came, through another maze of hallways, and finally stopped at the end of a poorly lit hallway, in front of a black door.

He shoved him at it, and growled the word "Knock." Roxas complied, but reluctantly.

"Roxas may enter," came the commanding voice of Xemnas. Axel grinned at Roxas sadistically one last time before walking away.

Roxas feebly pushed open the door. The room behind the door was small, dark, and windowless, and appeared to be an office of some sort. A single desk lamp, sitting on a desk, lit the otherwise pitch-black room. Xemnas sat at the desk, a pair of glasses on his face, looking through a pile of papers. Roxas hesitated at the doorway.

"I suggest you not waste any of my time, Number 13," Xemnas said. "Please take a seat opposite me." Roxas noticed a small chair across from the desk where Xemnas sat, and did as he was directed.

After looking through his papers for another moment, Xemnas finally acknowledged Roxas again. "You are now a member of The XIIIth Order, the most feared and ruthless gang in Illusory. We hold the city under our thumb, and all tremble at the very sound of our name. You will be expected to represent us in every aspect of yourself. From now on, you are to wear only black. You are to eliminate from your wardrobe any articles of clothing that are not black. If you are unable or unwilling to financially support this change in wardrobe, you are to consult Number Seven, Saix, about funds for shopping. You are required to train your fighting skills for at least sixty minutes each day; we do have a reputation to uphold. In the event of a gang battle, you are expected to follow orders immediately and without hesitation, regardless of any desire for self-preservation. Mercy is not an option unless otherwise stated. You will be given a room here, but are not required to live here. You will be given the funds to decorate your room as you see fit. It is advised, but not necessary, that you cut all ties with outside relations, as membership in such a highly-ranked gang could be dangerous to them. Intimate relationships between members are allowed, but not encouraged. You will be expected to spend most of your time here, in Fort Oblivion. You will be expected to be present at all gang meetings punctually and prepared. Relationships of any kind with members of other gangs are forbidden. You are required to pick the symbol of your choice and have it tattooed to the back of your neck, with a tattoo of your number on it or near it. After meeting with me, you are to see Number 12 about what your trademark weapon will be, and from that point on you will use only that weapon in fights. And, most importantly," Xemnas paused here, looking directly at Roxas, "Keep your focus on our main goal: The Crystal Heart. That is all. Do you have any questions?"

Roxas nodded slowly, still taking in all this new information. "What is the Crystal Heart?"

Xemnas eyed him curiously, his expression reflecting the closest thing to surprise as his face would probably ever portray. "You don't know...? Oh, that's right. You're not from Illusory... The Crystal Heart is a large, heart-shaped and priceless diamond that is said to hold mysterious power. Long ago, legend has it, a man used the Crystal Heart's power to create the Heartless, of the many myths of Illusory. The man hoped to use the Heartless to create a new world, of which he would rule as a peaceful ruler, protecting the people of the world. But the fools of the world feared the Heartless, and soon an uprising against the man accumulated. And, finally," his next sentence was full of bitter contempt, "Some brat named Aros defeated all the Heartless, trapping their essence inside the Crystal Heart, as well as the man's heart. The Crystal Heart has been hidden away in Illusory by those who fear the Crystal's power ever since."

Roxas mulled this over, thoughtful. "But why do you want the Heart?"

Xemnas exhaled, a gesture of seemingly tiredness of Roxas' questions, or perhaps at having to repeat a story he had repeated far too many times. "The man in the legend who created the Heartless... was my great grandfather. I intend to find the Heart to avenge him and finish what he started." His expression suddenly became dark, matching the majority of his surroundings, "But we keep meeting opposition. A gang led by Aros' descendent is also diligently seeking out the Crystal heart. I chose you to join the Order because I feel you are equally matched to their leader. You both seem to have about you the same essence, yet different."

Roxas pretended to understand.

"I only ask that you keep an eye out for the gang 'Wielders of Light', and especially their leader, Sora. They are not above stooping to shallow methods of destroying the Order. If I am not mistaken, they killed Demyx's brother, Myde. They are extremely dangerous, and not to be taken lightly. You are dismissed."

Roxas nodded and stood. He had other questions, of course, but he felt that now was not the best time to ask them. Xemnas' mood had darkened drastically, and he feared staying any longer would only add to the shadow of his disposition. He left the way he came and tried to find his way through the maze of hallways to the front room.

After turning onto what seemed like the hundredth dead end, Roxas was surprised to turn right into the face of Larxene. She grinned.

"Took you long enough," she said. "You've got a weapon to choose or the Superior will be mad. Come with me." Again, Roxas was led by way of being yanked by his wrist through the winding hallways to a doorway. Larxene opened it, and Roxas gasped.

Each of the room's long walls was covered from top to bottom in weapons. Not just the conventional kind, either: foreign weapons, specially crafted swords, and army-edition guns were a few among them. Everything from chakrams, claymores, and sabers to numchucks, brass knuckles, and kunai lined the walls, and Roxas was taken aback. Never in his whole life had he seen the diverse amount of weaponry that stood before him.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Larxene whispered, her voice a reflection of awe. "And to think, you can only pick one of them. Choose well." She slipped out the door, leaving Roxas alone with the store of weaponry.

Minute after minute passed as Roxas carefully examined each weapon, incapable of deeming one more suitable than another. Just as he was beginning to despair, the door opened behind him. Axel strolled in, glancing about the room casually. Roxas did not look up from the weapon he was examining.

"I remember when I had to choose," Axel said. "It was hell. There are so many. It's a terrible responsibility. There's so much power in a weapon... Eventually, though, I realized that there was one weapon that just sort of...called to me. It's hard to explain. Demyx says he felt the same way, and I'm sure the others did, too. It may not be the strongest or most lethal weapon, but it will be the one. You'll just...know. Don't sweat it, okay?"

Roxas looked up at Axel, scanning his face.

"Which weapon did you choose?" Roxas asked.

Axel grinned, taking a step closer to the wall of weapons. He reached up a hand and caressed a pair of chakrams.

"A red pair of chakrams," Axel replied, a fond smile on his face. "They reminded me of fire. As it were, they work great with a lighter."

Roxas nodded, able to picture Axel using such weapons.

"I never got to thank you," Roxas said quietly, "For going easy on my initiation. So...thank you."

"No point in adding broken cargo to the lot. Besides," He smiled mischievously. "I like your face the way it is."


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five.

Roxas' face felt a hot, red blush creep onto his cheeks. He averted Axel's gaze, looking at a large sword instead, seemingly inspecting it closely.

"I, uh, talked to Xemnas," Roxas said, desperate to change the subject.

"He's kind of stiff, eh?"

"A little."

"Did he give you the speal about the Crystal Heart?"

"Yeah."

Axel chuckled. "He like, worships that thing. Thing is, it's just a legend. No one is even sure it exists. He and Saix are the only ones who really take that old fairytale seriously."

Roxas frowned, trying to remember the all the names he'd learned earlier. "Who's Saix, again?"

"Saix is the one with the long blue hair from earlier. He's the Superior's little lapdog... I think they've got the hots for each other, but you didn't hear it from me!"

Roxas mentally scrolled over Xemnas' words from earlier; 'Intimate relationships between members are allowed, but not encouraged'. How hypocritical it was of their leader to discourage relationships, yet to be in one himself! It put Roxas a bit at ease, knowing even the rigid superior was involved in a relationship. For some reason, he was relieved to know there would be no repercussions for dating a fellow member.

All at once, Roxas was surprised at his thought process. The only girl in the Order was Larxene, and she was the furthest thing from dating material Roxas could think of. That left the remaining male members... and he'd never even considered dating someone of his own gender before. Yet, here he was, inwardly grinning at the idea of dating another member of the Order. He rushed to convince himself that it had merely been a reaction, nothing more. Still, there was something about this scarlet-haired pyro that made him not care if he was compromising his idea of right and wrong.

It took Roxas a second to realize why Axel was staring at him curiously: His face was still beet red. Axel walked over and leaned on the wall beside Roxas, his arm draped across the length of wall above him. Roxas' face turned a shade redder, betraying Roxas' feelings.

"Am I making you nervous?" Axel asked, his voice low.

Roxas shook his head furiously, unsure of whether he could trust his voice not to betray the same tension that his face did. Axel took a half step closer to Roxas, his feet parallel to Roxas' now.

"How about now?" He asked.

Roxas looked anywhere but Axel's eyes, choosing instead to look down. "No," he lied.

Axel leaned forward and cupped Roxas' chin in his hand, pulling his face mere inches from his own. "How about now?" He asked again, this time his voice a mere whisper. Finally, Roxas was forced to look at Axel's face, directly into his piercing emerald eyes.

"Do you want to be making me nervous?" Roxas asked, his voice an octave higher than he would have liked.

"Yes," Axel said, slipping his free hand around Roxas' waist.

"You didn't even ask if I roll that way..." Roxas said, although he was already defeated.

"No, I didn't," Axel replied, his gaze still focused on Roxas' cerulean eyes. "I wasn't—and I'm still not—willing to take 'no' for an answer."

"You almost beat me up at the coffee shop," Roxas muttered, desperate for an excuse, an escape. He was scared of where this was leading; scared of how badly he wanted it to go the way it seemed to be going. Was it only three weeks ago that this had been him and Namine?

"Standard procedure," Axel replied, "Besides, I didn't know any other way to get to talk to you. What if I'd let you go and then never seen you again? If I beat you up, there was a chance you could be initiated... but it all worked out, anyway."

Roxas was dizzy, unable to take all this in so quickly. Axel seemed to sense this, and finally he let him go, a coy smile still on his lips. "I'll leave you to your weapon searching," he said, heading towards the door. He opened it and then stopped and turned on his heels, and said, in afterthought, "But sooner or later, you will be mine, Number 13. M-I-N-E. Got it memorized?"

And then, he was gone, before Roxas had a chance to reply. Again, Roxas was left alone with a room full of weapons.

More time passed as Roxas looked at weapon upon weapon, searching for the one that 'called' to him. He was vaguely conscious of the fact that it was getting late, and his parents would start to worry soon. He began to grow hopeless, wondering if perhaps Axel's theory about the call of a weapon was silly. And then, finally, his eyes fell upon the weapon whose silent cry he could not ignore.

It was simple, and did not appear nearly as frightening as some of the other weapons. Yet, immediately upon seeing it, Roxas knew it was the one.

The weapon appeared somewhat like a set of numchucks, with one major difference. At each end, a ring of sharp-edged keys was attached, all of them sharpened to a point.

The idea of using such a simple item, such as ring of keys, as a weapon enticed Roxas. After one final glance-over, Roxas exited the room, weapon in hand, to go report the news of his finding.

He managed to find his way through the winding hallways to the front room. He had hoped he'd be able to find a window, or some opening to the outside which would give him some indication of what the time of day was, but he'd forgotten that all the windows were boarded up to give an outside impression of an abandoned building. The smell of food cooking wafted from the right of the main room, from behind the door that Roxas had earlier assumed was the kitchen. Acting on the notion that where there was food, there would be people, Roxas followed the scent of the food and walked through the kitchen door.

The kitchen, to his distress, was empty, but he could hear voices coming from a door at the other end of the kitchen. He went through this door, and found the other 12 members sitting at a dining room table, all of them (save for Saix and Xemnas) engaged in free, uninhibited conversation. All of them had their hoods down and were eating some sort of pasta.

When no one acknowledged his presence in the room, Roxas bit his lip in frustration. What was he supposed to do? It was getting late, and he knew it was about time for him to leave. However, he seemed unable to voice this and interrupt their evening meal. He stood at the doorway awkwardly, scanning the faces of his fellow members.

Finally, Roxas mustered up the drive to speak. "Um...Superior?" he said timidly.

Xemnas looked up from his meal with a look of irritation. "Yes, Number 13?"

"If, er... If I'm not home soon, sir, my mother will call the police and report me missing."

"Your mother has been called, and informed that you have met with a new group of friends and will be home late tonight. Please sit for dinner."

Roxas blanched. How did the Order know his number? Moreover, how could any of the members, being total strangers, convince his parents of anything unless he backed it? Roxas decided, however, that asking questions would only complicate things. He chose to trust Xemnas.

There was only one vacant seat, between Axel and Demyx. Roxas was both excited and dismayed when he realized where he would be seated by default. He slipped as quietly as possible into the seat. Demyx grinned.

"Hey, Roxy," He said, and Roxas inwardly cringed at the nickname. As if he wasn't feeling less than masculine enough without a feminine nickname.

"Hi," Roxas replied weakly. Only then did he notice the obvious: Demyx was sitting next to the blue-haired member, Zexion, their hands intertwined under the table.

Roxas blushed at the sight of this and turned away quickly.

Sensing Roxas' discomfort, Demyx glanced at Zexion before speaking again. "This is Zex… Number Six." He held up their intertwined hands slightly, to make sure there were no misunderstandings. "My Zex." Zexion's lips turned up slightly at the ends, the closest thing to a smile Roxas assumed he'd get from him.

"Hey, Number Six," Roxas said, not quite keen on calling his new acquaintance 'Zex'. Zexion nodded in reply.

A plate and utensils were passed down the table to Roxas, piled high with spaghetti. Roxas ate his meal quietly, listening to the banter around him. Occasionally he'd glance down the table to Xemnas and Saix, who were speaking to each other in a low voice, their conversation appearing expressionless and dull in contrast to the animated ones going on around them. Finally the meal was finished, and the members began to disperse. There appeared to be a set schedule for chores, because there was no debate over who would clear the dishes; Numbers 10 and 11, Luxord and Marluxia, immediately began clearing the table when dinner appeared to be over. Roxas stood awkwardly, unsure what to do next.

He was not left suspended for long, though. Saix approached him, nodding at the weapon Roxas still held (he'd kept it in his lap during dinner).

"Interesting selection, Number 13. Are you certain that this is your choice?"

Roxas nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

"So be it. I shall see to it that the records confirm that from now on you are the wielder of the keyblade."

"Keyblade?"

"Indeed. It isn't quite an accurate name, seeing the nature of the weapon, but that is its name."

Roxas scanned his weapon with new eyes. 'Keyblade' certainly had a ring to it.

"Before you go home tonight, you are to stop at the clothing store of your choice and purchase $500 dollars worth of black clothing," Saix said.

Roxas gawked. "I-I...I don't have...five hundred..."

Saix's face looked very faintly amused, if that was possible for such a stone-faced person. "The Order will be providing this money for you. Funds are never an issue for us, if you could not tell by our Castle alone." Almost smugly, he added, "We are a gang, Number 13. What did you think we do with our spare time? Just because we are more civilized than most of the filthy groups of this city does not mean we deny that nature of a gang. Or did you think it would be possible to join a gang that didn't steal?"

Roxas frowned. Of course, he'd expected illegal activity, and had accepted it already. Still, having it so plainly spelled out for him was a bit disturbing. Saix's tone did not change, no hint of remorse. The Order must steal great amounts on a regular basis to be able to shell out $500 for something like clothes. Roxas was slightly frightened at the aspect of being involved in such high-scale criminal activity, but was at the same time exhilarated. If nothing else, it would be interesting.

"Oh," was all he replied. Saix casually handed him five hundred dollar bills-- more than Roxas had ever held in his hand at one time in his life-- and left the room.

Roxas gawked for a moment more before heading to the main room himself.

Axel sat in front of the front door, leaning against it. "Ready to go, Roxy?" he asked, being the second to use the dreaded nickname.

"Yeah."

Axel opened the front door and headed to the Hummer. Roxas followed him out and climbed into the passenger's side, caught again by the conflicting emotions of dread and eagerness at spending time alone with this member of his new group.

Axel didn't ask where Roxas wanted to go, instead putting the car in drive and flying through the city streets at a dangerous speed. Roxas was mildly aware that Axel was heading towards the uptown districts of Illusory. Roxas assumed this was where they'd be doing their shopping, but Axel kept on, past the city limits and onto a highway.

Roxas eyed him curiously.

"Where are we going?" Roxas asked.

"Twilight."


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six.

Roxas' eyes widened. Twilight was his old town. Roxas was awash with conflicting feelings, unable to decide how to react. In the end, he chose anger.

"What gave you the idea I'd want to go there?!" he asked, his voice hostile, nearly shouting.

"You used to live there, didn't you?" Axel replied casually. "I figured you'd prefer to shop in a place you were familiar with. The mall there is much better than ours. Less graffiti."

"Turn around. Now. I'm not going there."

Axel frowned. "I thought you'd be happy."

Roxas sighed and looked straight ahead, watching as the turns and streets became familiar.

"No. Please. I'm not..." Roxas struggled to find words to fit his feelings. "I'm not strong enough to deal with any memories that may resurface if I come here."

Axel sighed and pulled over. They were in Twilight now, on a quiet street, idling under a dim streetlight.

"I'm sorry, Roxas," Axel said, and he sounded sincere. "I brought you here on orders from the Superior...I had hoped I'd be able to get through this as painlessly as possible."

Roxas scanned Axel's face, confused. "I don't understand," he said.

Axel stared out his window, avoiding Roxas' eyes. "Well...it's standard procedure to do research on potential new members." To further prove his point, Axel leaned over and opened the dashboard. He pulled out a folder, with Roxas' name scribbled on the front in bad handwriting. Axel still did not meet Roxas' eyes. He thumbed through the file. "We, uh... found your ex girlfriend's Myspace. Namine, was it...?"

Roxas nodded slowly, still unable to see how any of this fit with a shopping trip to Twilight.

"Well... it seems she's not even remotely over you. She planned to come visit you in Illusory this weekend, to surprise you. And that would...complicate things." Axel sighed. "I was ordered to drop you off at the mall, and go... chat with her. To convince her out of the idea."

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "Convince her how?"

Axel looked at his hands, anywhere but Roxas' eyes. "'Any way necessary' was what Xemnas said." When Axel looked up, the passenger's side door was slamming in his face.

"Why did he have to pick me for the job...?!" Axel muttered to himself, and put the car into drive, speeding down the empty street and catching up with Roxas easily.

He rolled down the passenger's side window, and continued to drive, slowly, keeping up with Roxas' pace.

"Roxas just listen," Axel begged. "It's for her own good."

"Oh?" Roxas asked, his voice dripping with hostility. Axel winced.

"If she was seen with you in Illusory, rival gangs might... hurt her. It's not a good thing to be associated with a member of the Order. Next Xemnas probably would have tried to convince you to break off ties with your parents, too. It's better this way, Roxas..."

Roxas stopped walking abruptly, and turned to glare acidly at Axel.

"Don't give me that," Roxas hissed. "You just want me all to yourself, you self-centered jerk. You heard about Nami—Namine—coming to win me back, and you felt threatened. Better to scare her than to lose your new prize."

Axel's eyes widened and he struggled unsuccessfully to hide how badly that hurt. "Roxas... I would never do this to you intentionally. I'm on orders from the Superior. I don't have a choice." Roxas' disbelieving glare was no comfort.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" Axel begged, the desperation in his voice so evident that Roxas could not ignore it.

Roxas walked up to the car window and looked directly into Axel's eyes, searching them for any signs of what was going on inside. "I believe you," he said finally, defeated. "There's just something about you..." He frowned slightly. "Something just... connected."

Axel's eyes lit up."I felt the same way!"

Roxas smiled now, taking simple pleasure in Axel's happiness. It was odd, but it was as though all of the sudden all the things that had bothered him before about feeling this way—all the reasons he'd come up with to keep himself away—had dissolved, and now all he was left with was a calm resolve. Something had clicked when Roxas heard that desperate highlight to Axel's voice when he begged to be trusted, terrified of the thought of Roxas being upset with him. Something had changed.

Roxas cocked his head slightly, suddenly coy, a playful smile on his face. Axel noticed the shift in Roxas' attitude as well, and raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" Roxas said.

Axel's lips turned down slightly, though his amused anticipation was still apparent."Well what?"

"Well, aren't you going to kiss me?"

Axel grinned.

"How do you expect me to do that? I'm in the driver's seat and you're outside the passenger door."

"Well, either you get out, or I get in, but I'm not moving until your lips meet mine."

"In that case..." Axel said, a playful grin forming at the edges of his mouth. He opened the car door and walked around the front of the vehicle, meeting Roxas where he stood. Roxas turned to face him, matching his playful smile. Axel slipped his arms around Roxas waist, and Roxas entwined his arms around Axel's neck.

"See?" Axel whispered, leaning so that his mouth was beside Roxas' ear, "I told you I'd make you mine."

"Yeah," Roxas replied in whisper, "I've got that concept memorized."

Axel's low chuckle was the last thing that came from his voice before he brought his lips to meet Roxas'. Roxas closed his eyes, blown away by the explosion of velvet happiness that erupted in his soul the moment they kissed. He'd never experienced anything that felt this right. He could kiss a thousand girls, and it'd never compare to this kiss of this boy.


End file.
